I'll Always Be Here
by Reilly TTV
Summary: When John Watson finds himself in the fearful clutches of a PTSD-triggering thunderstorm, a surprisingly caring Sherlock comes to the rescue. ((Pre-Johnlock oneshot, first fic I've ever written))


Boom…. Flash!

_I'm losing him, I'm losing him, he's bleeding out I can't save him, I can't save him, he's dying._

Boom…

_I need to get out of here, I can't leave him but I have to go now, I have to, I have to._

Flash!

_I'm falling, I can't see, everything is spinning, where am I, did I save him? Why can't I move?_

Boom..

_There's blood everywhere._

Flash!

_It hurts, it hurts, where am I, I can't move I can't see where am I whereami_

BOOM! "John!"

_It's hot, too loud, to bright, someone help me, help_

Flash! "Come on, John!" BOOM!

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…_

"NO!"

John Watson sat straight up in bed, disoriented, hyperventilating, shaking and sweating. His shoulder hurt like hell and he couldn't focus on anything but that pain for a moment and clutched it, gasping and trying to calm down as his ears rang and his vision swayed. He closed his eyes tight and let out a groan that was nearly a sob. He didn't want to cry, but it wouldn't have been the first time he had found himself doing so. There was a deafening boom all of a sudden, causing the ex-army doctor to jump, and a flash of lightning bright enough that it illuminated all of the small man's room.

John jumped again when he saw the figure sitting awkwardly on the end of his bed. It was Sherlock, the world's only consulting detective, staring at his flatmate and blogger with a look of—could it be… concern?—on his face that was so foreign to John that he couldn't believe it was true. The dark-haired man's mouth was moving and his brow was furrowed with concern and a look of sadness and fear was in his steely eyes that John had never seen before.

It was when Sherlock reached out a gentle hand and placed it softly on the blogger's arm that John snapped out of his panicked daze.

"John, look at me," Sherlock prompted softly.

The smaller man looked into his flatmate's face and took a deep breath. Sherlock smiled slightly and made to remove his hand from John's arm when John had grabbed it in his own two hands. The detective was surprised, but made no moves to stop his flatmate. The two of them had become very close and Sherlock could tell that he had… feelings (though he hated accepting it) for the brave and loyal man sitting in front of him, and had known for quite some time now that John felt the same towards him.

"So-" John's voice shook still, so he cleared his throat and inhaled deeply before starting again. "Sorry."

He looked into Sherlock's face with such a pained, ashamed, and apologetic expression that the normally stoic and detached man couldn't stop the feeling that his heart was breaking.

"It's fine, it's fine," he nodded, placing his other hand over his and John's tangled ones. "You're fine, okay? You're here, not back there. You don't have to worry or apologise. Post-traumatic stress disorder affects—"

But his statement was cut off when there was another onslaught of thunder and lightning, causing John to whimper and groan at his own fear when it was over. Sherlock let go of John's hands and moved over to sit next to John, leaning his back against the double bed's headboard. Normally the consulting detective wouldn't have felt like this, and he for sure wasn't one for physical contact and comfort, but John brought out this new side of him and deep down he knew that this is what the suffering man needed right now; comfort and someone next to him. John needed to feel safe, so Sherlock was ready to give him that comfort for as long as he needed it.

"Come here," he said, gesturing for John to come sit right next to him.

The still sore and slightly disoriented man detangled himself from the covers and sat beside his good friend, and rested his head on the taller man's shoulder. John never thought that Sherlock would have such feeling of… intimacy, with anyone, let alone John. For the entire time they'd known each other, John had been trying to keep his feelings – his romantic feelings – to himself and under the covers, dating women he didn't really feel a thing toward to hide his insecurity. John sort of figured there was no way to keep his feelings hidden from Sherlock, that man knew everything about everyone in just a glance, and god knows how much the detective figured out about John over the past year and a half.

Yet again, the thunderstorm spoke up, and the sounds of crashing filled the air. The booms were so strong that the windows rattled and before John knew it, he had his arms wrapped around the pale and handsome man beside him. He buried his head in Sherlock's chest and felt the man's long arms wrap around his back and felt his nimble fingers rub tiny, soothing circles on his shoulderblades.

"I've got you," Sherlock murmured, sliding down so John could lay more comfortably against him, pulling the covers up around them both. "I'm right here."

John inhaled deeply and turned his face up to look at the man in whose arm's he was truly feeling safe in. Sherlock had a soft smile on his lips, and John could see how beautiful the man was in the light that shone through the raindrop-sprinkled windows from the street outside. The ex-army doctor's own face broke into the same soft smile as he felt himself slowly relax.

"The storm's moving away," he mumbled sleepily, causing a bigger smile to break out over Sherlock's features.

"Mmm," the consulting detective nodded and wrapped his arms just a bit more snugly around John's smaller frame. "You should go to sleep now, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere."

Just as the ex-army doctor let himself slip into the clutches of slumber, he could have sworn he felt soft lips press to his forehead and a deep voice whisper in his ear:

"I'll always be here."


End file.
